Robbie tipped his head to the ladies.
“But do you know Mr. Flowers and Mr. Groves?”
“For many years,” he replied. “We were at Eton together.” The two men winced ever so slightly. Jimmy Flowers and Matty Groves had been fixtures at Eton, bullies of the meanest sort. Robbie still remembered the day he’d pulled the swaggering Flowers off of Nash, Robbie’s twin.
He introduced Jack to the two men and then said, “I am certain you won’t mind if my uncle and I claim that game of whist the ladies promised us.”
Miss Reynolds furrowed her brows but remained silent. Miss Crockett bestowed a benevolent smile on Robbie.
“Oh,” said Lady Sanborn, “I am sure they would not.” She turned to the two men, who looked as if they’d just lost fish off their lines. “We wish you a good evening, gentlemen.” Then to her charges, “Come ladies, let us join Sir Robert and Monsieur Donet in the card room.”
Miss Reynolds took Jack’s arm, shooting Robbie a self-satisfied smile. Content to abide by her choice, at least for now, Robbie offered his arm to Miss Crockett. “What say you, oh winsome beauty? Shall we sally forth together?”
Miss Crockett beamed up at him and set her hand on his sleeve. “Lead on, Sir Knight. I care not that we promised no game of whist. I intend to enjoy partnering with you.”
He couldn’t be sure but he thought he detected a “humph” from The Keeper of the Demon Cat. At that moment, she reminded him very much of The Grand Countess.
Chapter 7
Chastity surreptitiously glanced to her right and met the piercing gaze of her nemesis, his hazel eyes sparkling in the light of the single candle that lit their table. “I do believe it’s your play, Miss Reynolds.”
Quickly she looked to her hand, concentrating on her next move, hoping he had not detected her stare. “A moment please.” Whist was her favorite game and, with her acquired skill and partnered with the vicomte, she intended to win. It mattered not that The Rogue was dealer and had just turned up the trump card, the six of hearts. Hearts was her least favorite suit. It only reminded her how fleeting love was and how dangerous it could be to one’s wellbeing to get involved with a rogue.
She had not forgotten his laughter in response to the brazen flirtations of the woman sitting beside him at the king’s table. When she’d asked Mr. Flowers who the woman was, he said, “Oh that’s Countess Lieven, the wife of the Russian Ambassador to Great Britain. I don’t see her husband here tonight.”
The wife! Why should she be surprised that a rogue like Sir Robert would encourage the attentions of a married woman? After all, his friend the king did the same. And why did Countess Lieven have to be one of those beautiful women with very dark hair, in this case auburn, and skin like the purest ivory?
Chastity hadn’t minded when Sir Robert turned away the two men who’d entertained her and Rose at dinner. They were not the brightest of fellows and neither was good enough for her friend, Rose, but at least the two had been lavish with their attention. And Sir Robert did lie when he said she and Rose had promised him and the vicomte a game of whist. That he had lied as an excuse to take them away from the two men annoyed her but she was unsurprised. It was just the thing a rogue who wanted his way would do. She had met his penetrating gaze often enough to know he was a man who did as he pleased. Surely, the fact he would impose a kiss on a total stranger was evidence enough!
Chastity laid down the six of clubs and the play moved to Rose, who would have to play the same suit if she could.
Rose stared at her cards, deep in concentration.
Two rooms had been set up for whist, backgammon, chess, vingt-et-un and loo. In a third room the king’s guests were treated to music. Chastity could hear the sounds echoing throughout the Pavilion.
The foursome played whist under the watchful eye of Aunt Agatha who sat in a nearby chair drinking tea with one of her woman friends.
Finally, Rose laid down the jack of clubs.
Across the table, Chastity gave her partner a hopeful glance. But he must have had nothing in the suit of clubs ranking higher, for he laid down the two of clubs and returned Chastity a sympathetic look.
Sir Robert inserted the trump card back into his hand and set down the five of clubs.
With a smile of delight aimed at her partner, Rose gathered the cards, taking the trick.
The game continued with each set of players taking tricks. Despite the best effort of Chastity and the vicomte, Sir Robert and Rose managed to gather the most tricks and were the first to compile the winning score of five points. She was thankful that at least Sir Robert did not gloat.
When the game ended, the vicomte gathered the cards into a neat stack. “Shall we adjourn to the Music Room?”
“I would enjoy that,” said Rose with enthusiasm.
As they stood, Sir Robert offered Chastity his arm. Unless she wished to look the veriest shrew, she had no choice but to take it. Beneath her fingers, the muscles of his arm flexed. It annoyed her that she should notice. Or that, notwithstanding the heavy perfume in the Pavilion, she could detect his masculine scent of bergamot with a hint of orange. As he guided her toward the Music Room, her every sense was attuned to him.
They were about to pass her great-aunt when he paused. “Lady Sanborn, with your permission, we are escorting the ladies to a better vantage point to hear the music.”
“That sounds like a splendid idea,” said Aunt Agatha. “I will join you shortly.”
Chastity was amazed at the scale of the Music Room. She imagined it a concert hall in a Chinese emperor’s palace. As they entered, the band began playing Handel. Halfway down the large room on the left, she glimpsed the king sitting with his mistress, Lady Conyngham, a gilded couple in their middle years. Lady Conyngham had to be in her fifth decade. Chastity might have expected the king to have a young mistress but, seeing them together, she recalled Aunt Agatha saying that Prinny favored older women.
Across from the king, on the other side of the parquet floor, guests sat in long rows of chairs listening to the music. Behind them were four tall pagodas that had to be fifteen feet tall. The many-tiered towers featured stories of diminishing size as they rose in the air, an ornamented projecting roof on each one.
Above the parquet floor, hanging from the elaborately decorated recessed domed ceiling, were nine huge bowl-shaped chandeliers made to look like giant lotus flowers.
Chastity opened her fan. The room was very warm, a circumstance, she told herself, having nothing to do with the man beside her. Nevertheless, she was glad she’d taken Aunt Agatha’s advice and worn her lightest, sheerest gown, a blue-green confection perfect for such an occasion.
Sir Robert guided them to three chairs, urging them to sit. “Place your reticule on the vacant chair,” he told Chastity, “so your great-aunt will have a place when she joins us.” Chastity set her reticule on the open chair, grudgingly admiring the kindness in his purpose for chairs were in short supply.
“What about you and your uncle?” asked Rose.
“Jack and I will stand behind you,” said Sir Robert. Which is what they did, making it difficult for Chastity to think his behavior anything but that of a gentleman.
“That is very gracious of you both,” said Rose, turning to smile up at the two men.
Chastity worried that her friend was forming too great an attachment to Sir Robert. His uncle, however, would make a fine suitor. Handsome, well-mannered and rich. And she’d not observed him with any married women. Perfect for Rose.
As Chastity considered Sir Robert’s gallant gesture, she softened toward him. But that only lasted until Countess Lieven, sitting a short distance away, drew their attention with the dramatic opening of her fan. Over the top of the gilded fan she fluttered in front of her face, the countess winked at Sir Robert, making Chastity wonder if he had made an assignation to come to the countess’ bed later that night.
Vowing not to think about his nighttime pursuits, Chastity forced herself to focus on the beautiful music of Hand
el. After all, what did she care of his lady partners? Instead, she became enthralled with the large painted scenes of Chinese costumes in red and gold arrayed about the room and held up by flying dragons. It was something she would expect to see in the palace of a Chinese lord.
Sir Robert leaned in to whisper, “I do love the music, don’t you?” His lips touched her ear, causing her to shiver. Then came his warm breath against her delicate skin. As he withdrew, she turned to see him smile. Surely he had meant to do it.
“I do,” she said, turning back, trying to still her racing heart. He had deliberately teased her with his sensuous lips, the scoundrel. Dismissing his bold gesture, she sat back and returned her attention to the music.
Not long after, Aunt Agatha claimed the chair reserved for her.
At twelve o’clock, the music stopped and sandwiches, wine and water were handed around. Muted conversations filled the great room.
Sir Robert and his uncle nibbled on sandwiches but, by then, the heat had risen to such an extent that Chastity asked only for water.
“The king always keeps the Pavilion’s rooms overwarm,” said Aunt Agatha. “It makes one thirsty, but one can hardly tell the king to snuff the fires.”
Shortly after, the king got to his feet, bowed and wished his guests a good night as he escorted Lady Conyngham from the room.
“May we see you ladies to your home?” Sir Robert asked.
“That would be most kind of you,” replied Aunt Agatha. “We are not so far as to justify a carriage unless it is raining.”
Chastity was delighted when Monsieur Donet offered her great-aunt one of his arms and Rose the other. She had hoped her friend could get to know the vicomte better. Of course, when Sir Robert offered his arm to her, she could not refuse it.
Despite her intention not to enjoy his company, Chastity soon found she was laughing at some witty remark Sir Robert made.
“So you can laugh,” he said. “I should have thought you preferred to scowl.”
“It might surprise you to know that I laugh often, Sir Robert, just not with you.”
Chastity couldn’t be certain in the dim light of the street, but she thought his jaw tightened. If so, he quickly recovered. “Before the summer is over, I should hope to see more of your mirth, Miss Reynolds.”
“We shall see.” A smile spread across her face as she realized his walking her home delayed him from Countess Lieven’s bed. Perhaps the woman would be asleep by the time he arrived, her door locked.
“Well, what do you know…?” Robbie muttered, reading the invitation that arrived days later as he and Jack returned from their morning ride.
“What?” asked Jack from where he stood in front of Robbie’s mirror admiring his cravat.
“We are invited to a reception at Lady Sanborn’s. She has added a note promising to introduce us to some of the most eligible young ladies of her acquaintance in Brighton.”
“I shall look forward to that,” Jack said, facing Robbie. “Does this mean I shall finally meet the demon cat?”
“I daresay you will.”
Tiller came through the door to help Robbie change. “Do ye dress for town, Cap’n?”
“I think so,” said Robbie. “We’ve a few taverns to visit, a game of brag, and Sir John Lade, who we encountered on our ride, wants to show us a horse.”
Tiller busied himself setting out Robbie’s clothes. “Once I see to ye, Cap’n, I’ll attend the vicomte.”
“I do appreciate your service, mon ami,” said Jack.
“’Tis nothing, M’sieur. As ye’re companion to my master, ’tis my pleasure.” The old salt puffed out his chest with pride. “’Sides, when we’re at sea, I have more to do than seeing to just two gentlemen. And that don’t even go into the Cap’n’s many costumes.”
“Costumes?” asked Jack with a puzzled look. Then to Robbie, “Is there something you’re not telling me, Nephew?”
Robbie shot Tiller a look that said, “Say no more” and began to dress. “A gentleman has a need for many kinds of attire, does he not, Tiller?”
“Aye, Cap’n,” Tiller said, dropping his gaze. “He surely does.”
As Robbie pulled on his polished Hessians, he remembered the note he’d received the night he’d dined with the king. There had been no others since but, whenever he and Jack went into town, he could feel eyes on his back. Someone was monitoring his movements. He’d made sure he was carrying one of his smaller pistols at all times, and Jack always had a knife or two hidden on his person, though none of that would save Robbie from a bullet in the back.
Excited to be out with her great-aunt and Mrs. Fitz on this late spring morning, Chastity stepped down from the carriage and let her gaze travel the length of North Street. There was only the slightest wind. “Why, there must be fifty shops!”
“The last count was sixty, I think,” said Aunt Agatha, “and even I have not been to all of them. We creatures of habit tend to frequent our favorites.”
“What shops would you like to see first?” asked Mrs. Fitz. “We’ve plenty of time before Agatha and I take you to our favorite spot for tea.”
Rose glanced at Chastity. “I know what you’re going to say.”
Chastity had just finished the design for Aunt Agatha’s slippers that morning. “A fabric shop that sells silk, the kind that makes elegant slippers, would be my choice.”
“I always like to see silk,” said Rose. “And I need a new pair of gloves.”
Mrs. Fitz smiled. “We can easily attend to both of those requests. Thomas Nightingale is an excellent glover and Mrs. Bull, the silk mercer, has lovely fabric. But if you want a gown, I recommend Mrs. Sanders.”
“My great-niece designs shoes, Maria,” Aunt Agatha informed her friend.
“Shoes?” Mrs. Fitz’s brows rose in question.
“She does,” Aunt Agatha said, answering for her, “lovely ones. See those she is wearing today?” Aunt Agatha looked down at Chastity’s red half boots peeking out beneath her morning gown of cream muslin edged in crimson. They matched her dark red spencer jacket.
“Those are remarkable,” said Mrs. Fitz. “I had not noticed before.”
“Mine, too, were designed by Chastity,” said Rose, lifting her skirt to show her blue half boots.
“A most unusual pastime for a lady,” remarked Mrs. Fitz. Then she smiled. “I approve.”
“Do you wish to take the silk fabric to the shoemaker’s, Chastity?” asked her great-aunt. “Thomas Lulham makes fine boots and shoes and his shop is just here on North Street.”
“Yes, please,” replied Chastity.
In no time at all, they had visited the silk mercer and Chastity had the fabric she needed for Aunt Agatha’s slippers. The respect with which Mrs. Fitz had been welcomed by the shopkeeper spoke much of her worth in the eyes of Brighton’s merchants. The king might have forgotten his Catholic wife but Brighton had not.
Their next stop was the shoemaker, where Chastity persuaded Rose to distract Aunt Agatha and Mrs. Fitz long enough for Chastity to pull out her drawing and tell the shoemaker what she desired.
“Of course, I can make the slippers for you, Miss. Check back with me in a week and you will have them.”
Delighted with the shoemaker’s enthusiastic response, Chastity left Rose and the two older women to pay for their orders while she drifted to the bay window to watch the comings and goings on the street. Many people were taking advantage of the good weather. As the summer grew closer, more Londoners arrived each day, making the streets more crowded.
She was just about to turn away when, across the street, the door of the Blacksmiths’ Arms tavern opened and two gentlemen stepped out. She recognized Sir Robert and his uncle at once. They spoke for a brief while, as if trying to decide what to do next and then turned down the street. Before they had gone but a few steps, a woman came scurrying out of the tavern, her dark hair flying behind her, and threw her arms around Sir Robert’s neck and kissed him.
Though he was startl
ed at first, he embraced her fondly before letting her go.
Chastity inhaled sharply, covering her mouth with her fingers.
Rogue that he was, he just laughed as the girl ran back inside. Chastity supposed he had no end of women pursuing him. He was, after all, a handsome figure of a man. That he should accept the kiss of the tavern wench in the middle of North Street in the full light of day, however, surprised even Chastity. She turned away, condemning her thoughts of Sir Robert Powell to the outer reaches of her mind. His errant ways did not concern her and it was certain he cared nothing for her opinion.
Robbie had already turned his attention from the girl to their next stop, when Jack asked, “Whatever did you do to earn that kiss?”
“What? Oh, ’twas nothing. I merely left her more coin than she expected. I was trying to make up for that bothersome lout in the corner who was giving her a rough time.”
Jack stuffed his hands in his coat pockets against the wind. “You always seem to notice more than I do, mon ami.”
His work for the Crown had rendered the smallest detail of great importance, sometimes the difference between life and death. “She could do little to please him, though she certainly tried. I was sorry for her sake.”
“The kindness you did her might have gained you a hearty thanks, not that kiss. That kiss, Nephew, was an invitation to return.”
“Don’t be silly,” Robbie said, striding ahead. “We must hurry if we’re to play a round of brag before we meet Sir John.” He did not mention to Jack that they were being followed. He’d noticed the solitary figure in the brown greatcoat leaning against the tavern counter. Robbie could discern few distinguishing features since the man had pulled his hat down on his head. It was a meager disguise but Robbie’s instincts had been roused.
When they left the tavern, so did the man, who was now dogging their steps.
Robbie led Jack down a side street and entered Woolbridge’s cigar shop only to leave by the back door moments later, managing to lose their shadow.
“What was that excursion about?” asked Jack, perplexed. “I thought to buy a few cigars but your quick exit made that impossible. And weren’t we hurrying to a game of brag?”
Rogue’s Holiday Page 9
